The Blind Phoenix
by MargaretMinervaMcG
Summary: Sarah O'Brien needs a new job and through an unlikely event ends up in a speakeasy with one Cora Crawley, who isn't all she appears to be. AU-setting Corah fanfic set in prohibition-era America with speakeasies, alcohol smuggling, other 20's shenanigans, and something magical?
1. Chapter 1

_I hope this fandom isn't too dead to accept a new story about our favorite, fictional (not-actually) lesbians with an AU-setting in prohibition-era America and more... ;)  
I took some liberties with timelines. I assumed Sarah is younger than Cora, and Cora is a bit younger than she should be, but nothing too drastic.  
Obviously, this pieced has been spell- and grammar checked to the best of my abilities, however I cannot guarantee there are no mistakes in here. Feel free to point any out if you happen to encounter them!_

 _Please enjoy!_

 _-Minerva  
_

* * *

Sarah felt as if Lady Luck had definitely left her the past week. She'd been fired from her latest job and hadn't managed to find anything new. Now she was just wandering through the streets of New York, looking for a shopkeeper or anyone who looked like they might need help. Even if it was only for a day, she really needed the money. She had given up on trying to find work as a seamstress, she had her aunt to thank for that. Nowadays anything went; selling newspaper, lifting crates, helping at the market, anything to fill her stomach and pay her rent. Not that she had any rent that needed paying now. With no job and no money to pay for this week's rent, she'd been thrown out together with what little possessions she had. At least she wasn't cold, Sarah was never cold. It was her only blessing really, the cold had never found her, not once in her life. Neither did the smell of smoke ever leave her hair, but that might rather be due to the fags she smoked, more than anything else. She had taken up smoking just before she left England, the smell was the last thing reminding her of home and her parents. The smell of Black Cats brought back memories of her father and the farm, sitting on the fence together with her brothers as they took a break from their work. She still missed them at times. Not long after she'd been send off to work for her aunt who was an established seamstress, she'd taken up smoking to feel less lonely. Her aunt hadn't liked it, said the distinct smell got into the clothes which bothered customers. Sarah knew she was right, even though she never smoked inside or even near the door. Even the cigarettes she had kept in a box in a storage cupboard, far away from the dresses. But no matter what, the smell had gotten into every piece of clothing she touched. She'd even stopped smoking for a few months in a failed attempt to exorcise the smell. Secretly she didn't mind, she revelled in it. It had offered her some solace and comfort in this foreign place. Her aunt had been less than happy with it. Eventually Sarah had been sweeping floors and cleaning the store, rather that work on the dresses. With her only solace taken from her, Sarah became more miserable than ever. The distinct air still clung to her, and at time she swore she saw some smoke circling from her hair. As it didn't seem to make a difference anyway, she took up smoking again and not longer after, her aunt fired her. She had remained to live with her whilst earning her own money, which eventually had let to unpleasantness she'd rather not think about ever again. Sarah had found her own little room and taken on whatever acceptable work that she could find. And here she was now, without room and without job. She was about to stop loitering and turn around and walk to some friends to see if some friends might let her stay the night when she noticed it.

Right there.

Up in the air.

Floating.

Golden sparkles that slowly pulsed in the air. No one around her seemed to notice the weird sparkles, all passerbys... well, they just passed by. Sarah slowly crept up on the sparks, making sure to keep her eyes on them at all times, somewhere she was afraid that they might disappear if she wouldn't. She extended her hand warily, her fingers tingling softly as she came closer. Just when Sarah thought her fingers would finally touch it, they disappeared and turned into a silvery, glittery smoke. The smoke circled her fingers, to eventually settle in the palm of her hand and solidify. As Sarah stared wide-eyes, a small paper appeared in her hand. On it were elegant letters in cursive, bearing an invitation to her? "Sarah Margaret O'Brien" Somehow the invitation had been addressed to her, it read:

 _"Dearest Miss Sarah Margaret O'Brien,_

 _Hereby you have been cordially invited to our upcoming social at The Blind Phoenix this Friday. We hope to welcome you with open arms as one of our sisters during these troubled times. Please come in appropriate, but comfortable dress._  
 _The evening will start 10 pm, but if you wish to join for our monthly dinner please arrive at 7 pm at the latest._

 _Our warmest regards,_  
 _The Blind Phoenix"_

Attached at the bottom was a little map with a dot where the event was to be held, the address indicated was only a few blocks away. Curiosity won and soon Sarah was on her way, startled by the strange invitation and the even stranger way in which it had occurred. When she finally arrived, she saw nothing more than a small haberdasher. When she peeked through the window, she saw nothing in particular. Nothing that even hinted towards the fact that some fancy event was to be held here in a few days time. The store appeared to be closed at the moment with no one in. She carefully ventured 'round the back where she founds crates and boxed piled up near the backdoor. Normally she would have found it curious. From experience she knew this amount and size of boxes was quite abnormal for this type of business, but right now invitations solidifying out of smoke, floating golden sparkles and shady haberdashers were drawing in her attention. Sarah hesitatingly knocked on the backdoor, not sure whether or not she wanted it to open. After a long second she released the breath she'd been holding expectantly. When no one seemed to answer she knocked again, this time with more confidence. The only thing she had to lose were the meagre possessions in the small bag in her right hand; something she wouldn't let anyone take from her. After some rumbling and hastened steps, a rather tall lad opened the door. He raised an arrogant eyebrow while openly scrutinizing her hair, face, clothes and shoes. She realised she didn't look exactly shining and sparkling, but she always took great care for her clothes to be in an orderly state without any loose threads or buttons ajar. In the end she won the staring contest and he defiantly lowered his eyes. It would be quite a while until someone would win over Sarah O'Brien in a good old-fashioned staring contest. She decided for him to start speaking, it was this establishment that was spreading weird out-of-smoke-solidifying invitations after all.

"So, I presume you're 'ere for the job then."

Not exactly what she had expected. Not at all what she had expected. Somewhere she was bursting to know where the strange invitation came from, but the mention of a job was also more than welcome in her ears. Internally she struggled for a moment, her curiosity was wrangling her on the inside, but she needed a job. And if anything, Sarah O'Brien was, and would always be, a smart and ambitious woman. Jobs got her money, and money got her food, rent and fags. Golden sparkles did not.

"Yes. I am here for the job."

"Well, come on in then."

He edged the door open for her and motioned for her to follow him. They walked into a narrow corridor where she could see flecks of dust floating lazily in the air. In the cupboards she spied disorganized boxes of buttons, threads, pins, ribbons and more. She daresay that within a good day or two she could fix that, if they'd take her. It looked like no one had paid any serious attention to the boxes for ages, or to anything really. Suddenly the boy disappeared, then she saw a dark curtain hanging to a side. Behind it she found a pair of stair leading down. As she followed him her eyes quickly became accustomed to the light. They were in a dimly lighted corridor, the floor carpeted with soft, lush black velvet, the walls covered in grey wallpaper covered with intricate patterns, the crown moulding and baseboard painted golden, and the chair rail in a deep red. All in all, the place looked far too luxurious for a Northern farm girl from the other side of the pacific. At first she had been slightly surprised as to why a shady haberdasher had such a basement. But it had dawned on her soon enough: a speak-easy. Sure enough the lad eventually led her into a small parlour with a long bar in the corner, behind which cupboard full of bottles was placed. Behind the bar Sarah spotted a woman, taller than any other woman she had ever laid eyes on. The woman was willowy and of an elegance Sarah was convinced she'd never completely master. The tall woman seemed to have a few years on her, but couldn't be much older than her early thirties. In one of her gloved hands she held what appeared to be an inventory list, while the other was ghosting over the labels on several bottles and pots. She turned at the sound of Sarah and the boy entering and instantly shot them a broad smile.

"Lady Cora, ma'am."

Sarah felt her breath being knocked out of her.


	2. Chapter 2

_Another chapter, it's a bit short tho :D I hope to pick up speed in the coming chapters after everything has been set-up etc etc. Please tell me if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes! Enjoy!_

 _-Minerva  
_

* * *

The woman, no lady, stood behind the bar was without a doubt the prettiest thing Sarah had ever laid her eyes on. Her child like expression, with her wide-eyes and shining smile were a stark contrast with the dark bar and cupboards full of booze. For one of the first times in a long while she was tongue-tied.

"She's 'ere for the job, m'lady." said the boy softly and with respect, although not subserviently.

"I see. Thank you Thomas, you may leave. Please don't forget to check up with Caroline tonight, we absolutely must have everything ready by Thursday." the woman told him, Thomas apparently, urgently. She was still smiling broadly at them, but the weight of her voice told Sarah that whatever it was Thomas had to do, it was important.

"Yes m'lady." and with that he soundlessly left the room back into the corridor, leaving her alone with the woman, Mrs. Crawley.

Sarah just awkwardly stood there, not sure if she should approach to woman or wait to be approached. With some effort she managed what must be a very stiff and awkward smile, smiling was generally speaking not Sarah O'Brien's strongest suit.

"Please sit down." the woman practically beamed at her, still smiling. Sarah was wondering how long it was humanly possible to keep smiling at someone, and all along still looking utterly convincing while doing so.

"Ah, yes of course." she practically blurted out while quickly walking towards one of the high bar chairs and sitting down, folding her hands together tightly in her lap keeping her face as even as she could.

"I understand that you're here for the job, although it's not exactly what I had expected I must admit. We expected someone a bit sturdier than yourself, so to say. Are you sure that you'll manage?" she politely, but critically, inquired, while eyeing Sarah curiously.

Sarah could practically hear the cogs up in her head turning, she hadn't had the slightest clue what the job would be about when she walked in and her been relying on her luck thus far. She decided she didn't have much to lose, worst case she would work for a few days and they would fire her again; some money was better than none at all. It sounded like she was expected to lift crates and other heavy carrying, not exactly a job she was well-suited to, but something about desperate times and desperate measures.

"I realize I'm not exactly what you'd expect asking for someone sturdy m'lady," the boy had called her m'lady so she might as well she decided "but I've done some work up at t'market and I've always helped out at me dads farm. So I'm stronger than I look, but otherwise you could just let me work for a day or two and then decide? " she continued hopefully, better a few days and be fired, than nothing at all. With a bit of luck she would stay on long enough to find out what was happening this Friday, she thought at the back of her mind. The golden sparkles and strange invitation were still a definite object of interest, and she was keen on finding out what they were and where they came from. But she would first need the job for that, and she was absolutely set on getting it.

"That's exquisite" Mrs. Crawley answered with a chuckle and "I take it that you are used to lifting and moving crates then. But I accept your offer, you can start tomorrow, please be here at seven sharp. Thomas will show you around. I will decide at the end of the week whether we will hire you or not." with that she extended her hand towards Sarah. As she took it she felt the soft skin glide against her own rougher fingers and palm.

"Thank you, I won't disappoint" Sarah answered with conviction.

" _However_ " Mrs. Crawley said heavily, causing Sarah's throat to constrict momentarily at the word, unsure of what would come next "I feel it would be good to know your name before you start" she finished lightly, the tinkle in her eyes audible in her voice. Sarah audibly released her breath, causing the woman across from her to giggle. She raised a slight eyebrow at her, not wanting to be impudent, but also not wanting to let it slip completely. It only caused Mrs. Crawley to giggle more intently while shooting Sarah a mischievous smile. Feeling slightly defeated Sarah squeezed Mrs. Crawley's hand lightly and lifted her head defiantly with new courage.

"Sarah O'Brien, m'lady"

"Cora Crawley. I'm most pleased to make your acquaintance miss O'Brien." This time she spoke more seriously, although the tinkle in her voice still evident. In response Sarah couldn't help but crack a genuine smile. The woman in front of her looked absolutely adorable with a mixture of a broad smile and mischievous grin so openly displayed on her face.

Slowly, and with most effort coming from Mrs. Crawley, they started chatting and it was decided that Sarah would also mind the shop when she wasn't helping out Thomas with his duties. This would give Thomas more time for whatever other duties he had and it was easy money for her. In her eagerness she even promised she'd clean up the storage, cover-up or not, she couldn't bear the state the upstairs shop was in at the moment. When the subject of lodgings came up and Sarah attempted to downplay her current state of affairs -kicked out on the streets depending on favours of old friends- she wouldn't have any of it. Mrs. Crawley _insisted_ that Sarah would make use of their spare bed upstairs, at least as long as she would work for them, although she made it obvious that she wouldn't allow Sarah to live on the street afterwards either. Sarah felt uncomfortable with the idea of a some stranger offering her lodgings, desperate or not, it was a bit weird at the very least. In the end they decided upon a small fee that for now would be kept from Sarah's pay. She'd be sharing a room with Thomas which was a bit unusual, but Mrs. Crawley insisted that it wouldn't be a problem and that she'd make sure to have a proper folding screen placed in the room so she'd have full privacy.

After her drink with Mrs. Crawley Sarah wandered about the bar and the shop, making sure she'd be familiar with it when she'd start tomorrow morning. She spent the rest of her day wandering around the better parts of town, watching how well-off young ladies, some accompanied by their mothers, some by their maids, bustled around in their carriages, no doubt from one pressing social engagement to another. She sat on a bench opposite a dressmaker shop eating a piece some sweets Mrs. Crawley had given her before she left, as she watched girls leaving and entering, and through the windows saw the dresses, fabrics and shopgirls flitting about, Sarah felt her heart tug. She missed the sewing, it had been hard work with long hours, it made her hands rough and her wrists ache, but she had loved it. Making dresses for the rich, the likes of Mrs. Crawley primarily. Her new employer's dress had looked expensive and well-made, judging from the way it had fallen down from her body it had probably been made especially for her. Why a woman who, judging from the state of her clothes, wouldn't need to work a day in her life ran a speakeasy, was a complete mystery to Sarah. With that she finished her sweet, lit a cigarette, and walked back to the haberdasher-speakeasy pondering her new job, lodgings, her questionable new employer, but most of all the strange golden sparkles she had seen anteriorly.


	3. Chapter 3

_Slowly getting into writing non-scholarly texts again, so I hope it's slowly getting better. Talking about slow, I hope it's finally picking up some speed story wise!  
Dolores is a thinly veiled reference to Dolores Umbridge, I initially called her Dorothy, but when I realized she is practically an AU-version of Umbridge I couldn't resist. Please enjoy and let me know what you think! All reviews are love :)_

 _-Minerva_

* * *

The following days passed in a rustle of heaving, lifting, dragging, shouting, and mostly smirking, with Thomas. Her new roommate turned out to be a bit of a jerk; a man to her heart. At first their thinly veiled banter had been aimed at each other, but before irreparable damage had been done, they encountered a common enemy: Dolores. Dolores Stratton was a pain in the arse, one as salty and sour as they come. She lived a few houses away above the little prim bookshop that she ran, although Thomas, and within a day Sarah as well, was convinced that she handed out more pamphlets in a day, than she sold books in a month. Dolores seemed to take offense to anything that could possibly be remotely pleasurable, needless to say that she and Thomas didn't exactly get along well. They had just been arguing over who would be carrying the last crate inside when Sarah had been alerted by the prompt clicking of impending doom on the pavement, followed by a sickening cloud of perfume and the least sincere smile Sarah had ever laid her eyes on. The stocky woman examined her from head to toe, not bothered in the slightest to veil her disapproving expression. Not that it bothered Sarah, she had lived with her aunt after all and hell hath no fury like her, she simply arched an eyebrow and shot a questioning look at Thomas, whose face was wrinkled up in utter revulsion.

"Can I help you ma'am" she said almost politely, daring the woman to look her in the eyes, but Dolores turned away towards Thomas whilst pointedly ignoring Sarah.

"You do know that the point of shop girls is to be inviting, not repulsive," it wasn't as much a question as a statement and it angered Sarah greatly, she knew she wasn't exactly looking pretty and prim, but she considered herself proper with her hair neatly tied up and her clothes clean and in good order."-but I guess it's a considerable improvement over _your_ lot. Who knows, maybe one day you'll stop smelling like alcohol and cigarettes, and whatever other _repulsive_ things you smell of."

"And maybe one day you'll stop smelling like your man left you for someone else, Dolores"

No one insulted Sarah O'Brien on propriety and got away with it, least of all this fat, speechless toad that stood gaping in front of her. She opened her mouth a few times as if she the air she was gasping for would magically contain some sort of comeback, it didn't. Thomas smirked and whistled softly as Dolores slowly turned from white to red to purple, just before Sarah thought she would explode, the woman turned on her heels and left hastily. They kept looking at her as she walked into her shop, closing the door with enough force for the jingle of the bell to echo through the street, before they looked at each other and snickered loudly.

"Nice one." Thomas remarked, returning his attention to the crate they had been arguing over.

"She had it coming, that ugly, old cow."

" How did you know 'er husband left 'er?"

"I didn't, but I can't imagine anyone wanting to spend time with 'er without being paid for it, or after a good smacking on the back of the 'ead." Sarah sniggered as she saw Thomas lifting the crate. She would spend her mornings helping Thomas with whatever needed doing, in the evenings she would help out downstairs in the speakeasy, and in the afternoons she would stand in the shop upstairs, in the rare event someone wandered in to actually buy some buttons. As a result Sarah spend most of the following afternoons sorting, cleaning and ordering the cupboards, boxes and shelves to make it all look presentable. She even had a go at the dusty front windows and swept the pavement outside, as she was done she daresay that the shop even looked presentable. Underneath the chaotic mess and layers of dust, it had actually been quite a charming little building. Sarah hoped it would convince Mrs. Crawley to offer her a more permanent job, god knew she needed it. The jingle of the doorbell and a high pitched squeal interrupted Sarah's musings, as if summoned by her thoughts, Cora Crawley stood in the middle of the shop looking around with a slightly astonished smile.

"I see you tidied up, it's positively unrecognizable" Mrs. Crawley said, still looking around slightly astonished. Sarah thought she looked rather adorable, wide-eyed and smiling at something as simple as a good cleanup (although it had been rather messy before).

"I thought it would be good for business. Even if it's a cover-up, it wouldn't hurt to 'ave some extra pennies. It might also keep the likes of Mrs. Stratton away."

"Ah yes, Thomas told me you have been acquainted with Mrs. Stratton. Such a _lovely_ woman, isn't she?" Cora said cheerfully. For a second Sarah wasn't sure if Mrs. Crawley was serious or not, but then the playful smirk gave her away.

"Oh definitely m'lady, no one as _inspiring_ as the lovely Mrs. Stratton. I reckon she'd even send a lame man running with _inspiration_ " she said conspiratory, causing Mrs. Crawley to burst into a fit of giggles. The tinkling laughter send strange sparkles straight down to Sarah's stomach, but she was soon distracted when she thought she saw sparkles in the air around Mrs. Crawley. They disappeared almost as soon as she noticed them, but Sarah was sure she had seen them. The exciting feeling in her stomach was quickly replaced by a more anxious one, as the realization dawned upon her that the sparkles she had just seen around her new employed were oddly similar to those that had caused her to end up here. Sarah would have tried to convince herself it had been nothing but a figment of her imagination, but she was sure it hadn't been. Her fingers gingerly went over the thick paper and printed letters of the invitation in her pocket, she fingered it nervously as she her mind wandered back to some rumours she had heard earlier that year. It had been during a gloomy evening when she had been wearing her finger on the fine lace of a dress that her aunt her thought herself alone in the shop and had been gossiping with one of her friends. At first it was nothing but scandals, rumoured speakeasies, the antics of the baker's daughter or the hysterics of next door's wife, all rather innocent and would be forgotten in a week when some new poor lass would do something even remotely improper. Then their voices became hushed whispers, Sarah never having been one to ignore possibly useful gossip abandoned her lace and crept closer to the door. Determined to not miss a single word of the conversation she slowly walked towards the front room, remembering the last time they had gossiped so quietly, the contents she caught had served her rather well that time. This time it hadn't been incriminating events and affairs, but something more sinister altogether, rumour had it that the covens were expanding their ranks, luring in young girls and teaching them all kinds of things. Feelings of anxiety entered her stomach as she listened to their hushed words. She had an inkling about what happened to witches and their likes, even if there had been no express laws on the subject, most of them were shunned. Sarah had been subject to this particular treatment as a child, she hadn't been exactly pretty back then; her sharp nose, hard eyes and coarse hair had given her a rough and unyielding appearance. Her favorite mechanism of defense being to claw at anyone who came near her with less than friendly intentions hadn't worked in her favour either. After a particularly violent incident involving being bound to a small, shame pyre, her brothers had in an equally violent incident taught everyone not to lay a finger on Sarah. Luckily she hadn't been hurt, outside the usual scratches and bruises, as the fire had extinguished before it could come to close to her, for once she had been grateful for the damp English climate. It had all been forgotten as she grew older, but that one _unfortunate_ afternoon bound atop a small pile of wood had never quite faded from memory.

Could it be that Mrs. Crawley was one of them? She hadn't dared to even think the word, but it would explain the sparkles and invitation. Mrs. Crawley was now eyeing her curiously, inquiring if she was alright as she looked a bit pale. Sarah brushed her off saying she hadn't eaten lunch yet, which she actually hadn't. In response Mrs. Crawley insisted that they would eat something and disappeared through the backdoor to get lunch. Sarah pondered the possibility of confronting Mrs. Crawley once she would get back, but decided she would wait till tomorrow night to see what was happening. She lived and worked here now, giving her ample opportunity to find out what was going on.

Soon Mrs. Crawley came bustling through the door in a whirlwind of happy chatter, floral perfume and bright fabric, carrying a tray she set down on the counter, continuing her chatter. Even if Sarah was suspecting her new employer of questionable events that might involve chanting around cauldrons and other morally dubious actions, she couldn't help but feel comfortable around the woman.

"You know" Cora said, looking around the small shop "I think there is no point in postponing this any further." Sarah couldn't help but look up at her expectantly "I would like for you to come work here in the future; I think you've proven yourself to be capable enough by now." Mrs. Crawley announced, making Sarah's heart leap a little "Besides, even Thomas seems to think well off you, which I hear is a rarely achieved feat." she added with a playful wink.

As Sarah thanked her, Mrs. Crawley shot her a curious look. When Sarah answered it with an equally questioning raised eyebrow, she asked "I've been wondering, why do you call me 'm'lady'? Not that I mind, but I couldn't help but notice."

"I 'eard Thomas say it when I came in first time, so I thought it'd be the right thing to do" she answered "But if you'd rather I'd not do it, I won't" she quickly added, seeing the woman's face fall a little. With a soft smile Mrs. Crawley told her that it was fine, and that she ought to do whatever she thought worked best for her. Not long after Mrs. Crawley left, this time with much less clamour than when she entered, leaving Sarah alone to tend to the shop.


End file.
